Shrouded
by Sartyl Shrouded-Hearth
Summary: Sartyl has no idea what a journey lies before her whenever she crosses the Skyrim border for the first time in twenty winters. FemDovahkiin/Marcurio, Fem!Dovahkiin/Cicero, (If you squint possible Onmund/Dovahkiin and Dovahkiin/J'Zargo), camaraderie between Hadvar and Dovahkiin, possible spoilers!
1. Shrouded

I remember it just like it was yesterday. I was only seven winters old.

It all began with several sharp taps at the door. Someone outside was yelling for my mother.

Panic rose on my mother's tanned, young face making her wrinkles and lines far more visible. My mother was not a big woman, she was rather thin, but obviously not frail or dainty. Her blue eyes were framed with dark eyelashes and the most beautiful golden-blond hair. Her hands were as iron the way they calloused from years of working in the mines. Her forehead whispered of age and her laugh lines dared to make an appearance whenever she was upset, but even still she was absolutely beautiful.

"Sartyl, look at me." My mother pleaded with a cracked, strained voice. Even through her panic a thick Nordic accent rang. I took my gaze from my feet and slowly looked into her watery, bloodshot eyes. "Sartyl, I need you to be brave now. There's guards outside who are going to take me away. I need you -"

"Where are they going to take you, Momma?" I was so confused. Why were the guards going to take my mom? What had she done?

Mother sighed and weighed her options carefully. "I won't lie to you little one, they've come to take me to sovrngarde."

I didn't understand. How could the guards take my mother to sovrngarde without…oh no… By Talos, it couldn't be. She couldn't possibly mean they were gonna -

The horror of realization clung to my throat like a Creep Cluster to rock. I shuddered. "They're gonna kill you, Momma?"

"Yes, my little dartwing." My mother spoke so softly it was hard to hear her over the incessant banging on our door.

"But why Momma? Why?" My pleas fell on deaf ears we both heard the sound of wood splinter into oblivion. Guards flooded the house and began to make their way up our stairs. My mother threw me into a chest, but, in her haste, forgot to lock it.

Through the keyhole, I saw the boots of several Morthal guards rush in. My mother stood between the guards and the chest. One of the guards forced her to her knees and another said, "Luella Shrouded-Hearth, you have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people, what say you in your defense?"

My mother whimpered, "I've no gold. No possessions worth trade. No skills worthy of mention. I admit to my crimes. Sovrngarde awaits."

The guard spat on her. "There's no hope for Sovrngarde after all that you've done." What had Mother done? What could possibly be so bad that she is not welcomed into Sovrngarde? The guard that pushed her down bound her hands and forced her harshly upright. The wooden floor did creak in sadness as I watched her leave and descend down the stairs.

The guard that spat on my mother turned his back to me and faced his what remained of his men to say, "Search the house for the child. She is to be brought to an orphanage. Poor thing, probably never knew."

My heart began to pound and I broke out into a cold sweat. An orphanage? I did not wish to live in an orphanage.

My lips betrayed me and allowed a small whimper to pass. I sucked in my breath, realizing the guard had heard me.

Not seconds later, one guard found me. He lifted the lid of the trunk up and looked upon me with a great deal of dismay.

He took his helmet off to reveal blonde hair and skin that whispered of years working under the sun.

He looked at me with his amber eyes filled to the brim with pity. When he spoke I could tell he was a true Nord. "Come here, youngling. I won't hurt you." He offered me a hand to help get me out of the chest, but I refused it and pulled myself out.

After I dusted off my red tunic, he spoke again, in a soft, coaxing tone. "Listen very carefully, okay? I have to take you to an orphanage. Your mother has to go take care of some things. Sadly, it isn't possible for her to return anytime soon, I'm afraid." He put his helm back on but I was still stuck with that one word he'd said.

Orphanage.

I, Sartyl Shrouded-Hearth the daughter of Oeluveer Shrouded-Hearth who was the emporer's right-hand before the Incident, will have nothing.

The guard was really trying not to upset me, but I already knew what was to transpire in the coming days. I truly would become an orphan.

No mother.

No father.

Nothing.

A few untameable tears fell from my watery eyes. I furiously wiped them away, not wanting the guard to see them.

The guard's expression softened a great deal more. He looked at me as though he felt sorry for me. I just wanted to leave the guard's presence as soon as possible.

More than anything, I just wanted to leave Morthal.

As we walked to the orphanage, the guard muttered something about Cyrodiil and friends he knew. He then exclaimed, "I must find a courier!!" His sudden change in volume caused me to jump. He apologized to me, not meaning to jostle or frighten me in any way.

We made a detour on our way to the stables. The guard stopped at the Courier's post. When he walked in, one of the couriers jumped up and greeted him. The courier was obviously young, maybe 17 or 18. He was tall with a slender frame, like most couriers. His eyes were full of hope and vigor. I had a feeling he was more than happy to leave Morthal. "Captain Bolliviir, have you a letter in need of transporting? Where to this time?"

Capt. Bolliviir nodded. "Aye, lad. I will, but before that, need an ink well, a quill and some parchment. I'll be sure you receive enough to grab some mead on your trip as well, Selmius." Bolliviir winked.

Selmius scurried about the small shack hurriedly grabbing what had been requested. He handed everything over to Bolliviir and offered him a seat so he could write.

Bolliviir quickly scrawled out a letter and sealed it with wax. He handed it to Selmius and said, "This is to go to Cortumelorius and Fautina Lovidicos in the Imperial City. You got that?"

Selmius nodded. "Imperial City, Cyrodiil. Cortumelorius and Fautina Lovidicos. Got it." He finished his statement and realized he had forgotten something. "That will be 700 septims, Capt. Bolliviir."

Bolliviir handed him a pouch of at least 1000 septims. As Selmius was ready to object, Bolliviir waved his hand and bid him safe travels. Selmius waved back and sprinted out the door.

Bolliviir got up from his chair and looked over at me. "He's a good kid, that Selmius. Hard-worker, but he's far too trusting." I had nothing to add, so just nodded.

Captain Bolliviir and I walked to silence. Until we stopped at a carriage and Bolliviir asked me if I needed help to get up into the carriage. Though I wanted to protest, I decided against and allowed him to help me into the carriage.

The stocky, blonde Nord that drove the carriage waited patiently until we were situated. Then he said in a melodic, but strong voice, "Where to, Captain Bolliviir?"

"This time I have some business in Riften. But when we get there stay right outside the gates. I'll only be in there a short bit."

The carriage driver nodded. "You got it Capt'n!"

The ride was long and as dusk approached Bolliviir began to convince me to sleep. I refused for several hours until I became so exhausted a fell asleep in his lap. He nudged me awake as we approached a city as gloomy as myself.

The stone walls were painted with moss and mold. The skies seemed to hang low and draw darker the closer we came. The trees seemed lifeless as we neared the city.

I knew. _This_ must be **Riften** , Home of the Thieves Guild. The Thieves Guild was a name that sent chills down the spine of every man, woman, and child in Skyrim. The Thieves Guild had a good hold on all of the Jarls of Skyrim.

Bolliviir jumped out and helped me down. As we passed the carriage driver Bolliviir said, "I'll be right back." The carriage driver nodded. Bolliviir grabbed his guard's helm from his pack and slipped it onto his head.

The guards opened the gates upon sight of Capt. Bolliviir.

Bolliviir ushered me promptly to the orphanage on the opposite side of the town.

He opened the door to a cold-looking stone orphanage. I walked in ahead of him and took all of it in. The hearth burned with all it's flaming might, but it still could not warm the cold, desolate feeling that had settled upon me. A rather young-looking Nord woman appeared from the room beside the hearth and looked from me to the guard, and she ever-so-slightly rolled her eyes.

That was all the proof I needed to hate her.

She drew herself to her full height and addressed the guard with a tone of seething, untamed hatred, "Bolliviir, how nice to see you again. What is it that you have brought to me this time, hm?"

Captain Bolliviir stiffened a bit. "Ah Grelod the Kind, still as sweet and loving as Sithis himself, I see." Grelod scoffed at him. I could tell that Bolliviir, though his face was masked beneath his helm, was quite proud of himself. "This child was recently orphaned and will remain here in the meantime. I -"

Grelod the Kind cut him off, "This girl is at least six or seven winters old There is no hope that she will be adopted. Nobody wishes for an old youngling."

Bolliviir made a dismissive gesture and continued. "I sent word to some friends of mine yesterday whom I am certain will be interested. Until their arrival, I pray you will keep her safe, well-fed, and happy?"

Grelod considered this. "I suppose it would not hurt me to look after this young one. How soon will these "friends" of yours be arriving?"

Bolliviir thought for a moment before saying, "If Talos favors us, perhaps in a couple of weeks. If not, a month or so."

Grelod the Kind put out her hand expectantly. Bolliviir dug in his pocket and handed her a small sack of coins.

Grelod smiled a wicked smile that twisted my insides. "I'll see to it that the girl gets to them."

"Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must return to Morthal. The guards lose their heads when I am away for too long." With that he rushed back out the door.

That was one of the last time I saw Bolliviir. I received news a few weeks later, in Cyrodiil, that something called the Dark Brotherhood had murdered him while he was on guard.


	2. New Beginnings

It wasn't a week or so later two nobles from Cyrodiil showed up in Riften. The town was in an uproar. I paid no mind, thinking it had nothing to do with me.

A few days after the nobles' arrival, they waltzed into the orphanage. One was a man who had a dark complexion, uncalloused hands, a long nose that hooked at the end, and dark hair that framed his sharp cheekbones and golden eyes. He stood a good head or so taller than Grelod and he was stocky but slender. He worn clothes fit for the High King and boots that had never touched dirt. The second was a woman. She had a slender and dainty build, her skin was a far cry from her partner's dark golden complexion, her nose was shorter and significantly more rounded, her hands were spoke of a time when she did work for her living but showed she'd been out of commission for years now, her ice blue eyes were lined in heavy kohl and framed with hair black as ebony. She was truly beautiful. Could these _nobles_ be the "friends from Cyrodiil" Bolliviir sent a courier to?

Grelod the Kind was on her best behavior.

"Well hello," Grelod cheered.

"Yes, hi, we're here for Sartyl," the lady spoke in a soft, but expensive voice.

"Wait... _you two_ are friends of Bolliviir? From Mortal?" Grelod's eyes looked as though they could pop from her head at any moment.

The man spoke. "Yes, now would you please bring us the child? We have important places to be." His voice was demanding and was drenched in nobility.

Grelod flinched at the demanding and annoyed tone that coated his pompous voice. Something dark flashed across her eyes.

"Well you should know I can't just hand over a child without some kind of identification," Grelod snapped.

The Imperial man's brow furrowed and his eyes darkened as though she'd challenged him. "Then you'll be pleased to find out that I have brought identification and papers for both myself and Faustina. I, also, have brought the letter sent to us by Bolliviir and delivered by Selmius the Morthal Courier." Glee and a look of victory danced in his eyes as his mouth curled into a smirk and he handed over all the documents.

Grelod thumbed through all the documents and scoffed.

"Very well, Mr. Mrs. Lovidicus." Grelod looked utterly defeated. She then turned to face me and screeched, "You, urchin, gather things and come meet your new parents!" The nobles looked flabbergasted at Grelod's attitude towards me. I looked around grabbed the doll that Brand-Shei the young dunmer merchant had given me and skipped gleefully past Grelod the Kind into the arms of my new mother.

"Good day to you, Grelod," said Mr. Lovidicus.

Grelod scoffed and spun on her heel as though she had something better to do.

When we exited the Honorhall Orphanage, the Imperial man got down on one knee and grabbed my hands and gently said, "I would like to apologize for having to get ugly. I am Cortumelorius Lovidicus and this," he gestured to his wife. "Is Faustina. We are so excited to have you join our family." I gently pulled my hands out of his grasp and he took that as a sign to head to the carriage. Beggars pleaded for septims and mead. Cortumelorius paid them no mind and simply walked with a bit more urgency.

We reached the carriage and Faustina helped me up. A strange man sat in the carriage and guided me to my seat offering me sweet rolls and honey nut treats. He had green eyes and fair skin, his brown hair was unkempt and hidden beneath a hat. The man's face was ridden with scars that spoke of days when life was hard, his hands were hidden in leather gloves. He was not skinny and he was not stocky... he was a happy medium of sorts. He was fair like a Nord, but had the nose and hair of an Imperial. His mouth was spread into a wide, joyous smile... He must've seen right through me and noticed how I studied him. "I'm Belcom, I am the housecarl of Mr. Mrs. Cortumelorius Lovidicus. Pleased to meet you. And you are?" He looked at me expectantly.

I quietly squeaked, "Sartyl Shrouded-Hearth." Belcom raised up so quickly I was certain he would fly out of the carriage.

"Why it is so wonderful to meet you, Sartyl. Welcome to the family!" The joyful housecarl's happiness was contagious I found myself smiling before I realized it.

The first year or so was the hardest. But I eventually gave in and let myself become the child they had always wanted. It had it's perks.


	3. Wake Up

It's always surprised me where my mind went sometimes.

My eyelids felt heavy and hard to open. My head was throbbing, it was like Sheogorath were knocking on the inside of my skull. Why does my head hurt so bad? Where am I?

I didn't have my clothes or my pack.. My hands were bound and I was wearing prisoners clothes. I had so many questions -

"Hey you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right?" The blonde Nord in a blue cuirass interrupted my confusion. I looked to my right and a man in elaborate fur armor sat with his hands bound as well but he had a cloth across his mouth as well. He was obviously Nord. He had blue eyes and light blonde hair. Across from him sat a man, presumably Nord but dirty enough to pass for Breton, he was in rags like me. All of us were in a carriage, all bound, Talos help me. The Nord continued, "Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

The dirty Nord spoke next, "Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. The Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you I could have stolen that horse and been half way to Hammerfell." Stormcloaks? What in Nirn were Stormcloaks? The Breton turned towards me. "You there. Me and you - - we shouldn't be here. It's these Stomrcloaks the Empire wants."

The blonde Nord looked annoyed. "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief."

The carriage driver urged us to shut up, but we didn't obey.

The dirty Nord look to the large Nord bound and gagged and said, "And what's his problem?"

The blonde Nord looked horrified as he snapped, "Watch your tongue! You are speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King of Skyrim."

True High King? What on Nirn had I missed in the past 15 years? It's almost as though Skyrim had thrown itself into some sort of a civil war...

Damn. My pack had my papers in it. All my documentation. Without it, I might as well not exist. I have nothing now. Coincidentally I have been brought back into Skyrim the same way I left (you know except the carriage and inevitable execution).

The two Nords held a pointless, hopeless conversation all the way to Helgen. Which is when the dirty Nord realized he was headed to Sovrngarde. He prayed to his gods, but we all knew it was in vain.

When we entered the city, where we heard a father telling his son that he wasn't allowed to watch the soldiers.

Then we stopped. End of the line. Talos, here I come.

Ulfric went first off the carriage. Then the Legionaire with the list called for "Ralof of Riverwood" and the blonde Nord in the blue cuirass jumped off. Next was "Lokir of Rorikstead" and the dirty Nord jumped off, pleaded innocence and fled for the hills, though he did not make it.

I stepped up, expecting to hear my name, but I did not. The Legionaire asked my name and said I wasn't on the list. I triumphed momentarily. But the Imperial captain said I was to be sent to the block anyway.

Damn.

A priestess was giving us our final rites when we heard a cry in the distance. Another Nord in a blue cuirass volunteered to go first, not before interrupting the priestess.

Then the Imperial Captain pointed at me, "Next, the Nord in the rags."

Another cry came from the mountains and I saw a something huge fly around the mountain, if I didn't know any better I'd say it looked like a dragon... but that just wasn't possible.

I bent down at the block and stared at the severed head that still lie in the crate. The Imperial Captain pushed me onto the block. My neck became sticky with the blood of my predecessor.

The axe was up. Something that likened to hot acid rose in my throat. Tears escaped my eyes.

At least, I'd die here in my homeland.

Then the ground trembled as though the gods had been angered. The executioner stumbled over. And a large black dragon landed on the tower in front of me.

By the gods! I was right...

The dragon shouted into the sky. Everyone was running. Ralof helped me up and got me to a tower. Ulfric stood in the doorway. Ralof and I head up the stairs and the dragon cut off the top set of stairs. I jumped through the window into a burnt house and met Hadvar (the legionaire with the list). I had two choices and though I was quite fond of Ralof, I chose to go with Hadvar. We were the only two who made it out.

"Well Sartyl, I have to say I'm glad you weren't killed." I raised an eyebrow in question to him, then I continued to search for armor. "I was at the Imperial ambush where Ulfric was captured. One of the lower rank soldiers hit you in the head accidentally. We went through your papers and saw that you were perfectly legal, but then one of the Stormcloaks swore they knew you from somewhere. General Tullius presumed you were a spy for the Stormcloaks, though Ulfric denied it. But you know how that goes."

I nodded, suddenly wishing I'd chosen to go with Ralof.

"I knew Ulfric was telling the truth, your hands were too clean and too uncalloused, your clothes were made of the finest fabrics, and you are a Nord crossing back into Skyrim from Cyrodiil. It was too farfetched to be true." Hadvar looked at me as I pulled on the boots I'd found.

"I am the adopted daughter of Sir Cortumelorius Lady Faustina Lovidicus. I was born in Morthal. Captain Bolliviir was my godfather, but he was assassinated. I left Skyrim 15 winters ago. Just as soon as I am able I am going to write to my parents and have this whole "incident" erased from records. And you best believe that General Tu-" Hadvar put his had over my mouth.

"Do you hear that," he whispered.

"Hear what," I said rather loudly.

His eyes darted to the weapons rack. "Stormcloaks," he said darkly. He grabbed a sword and a shield and offered them to me.

My eyes got real wide. I did not know how to use a sword... I had never had to. "I don't know how to use this," I whimpered.

"Well I guess you'll just have to learn."

Talos guide me.

Hadvar opened the door and several Nords all clad in blue cuirass and guard's helms charged at us. I swung the top helplessly at the soldiers. One of the soldiers cut my thigh and I cried out in pain, grabbing the attention of Hadvar, who mercilessly yanked his sword out of the skull of a Stormcloak. He charged at the soldier attacking me and killed him.

"Are you alright? How deep is the cut?" He urged me to stand up and remove my already bloody hands from the cut.

"It's not too bad, honestly," I lied. My leg burned. I ripped some cloth off of the cuirass of a soldier and tied it harshly around the wound.

"Here take this," Hadvar handed me a Minor Healing Potion. I chugged it. My body numbed and eventually the pain ceased.

"Now let me teach you a little bit about using a sword." Hadvar showed me a few tricks on how to use my sword.

I am glad that I chose Hadvar, afterall.

We went a little ways until we ran into more Stormcloaks. I let Hadvar handle them, as I was unsure how to wield my sword.

I watched as a Stormcloak crept up on Hadvar as he fought with another. The Stormcloak raised his sword and I yelled and charged in after him. I tackled him and we broke the would rail, landing in the creek. He reached for his sword and then he pulled my hair to try and move me. I unsheathed my sword and cut that part of my hair. I then, without thinking, plunged my sword into his neck.

Realizing what I'd done, I yanked it back out. The soldier made a horrific gurgling noise. I climbed off of him and pressed my hands to his neck, begging Talos to heal him. The soldier began coughing up blood and it splattered down the front of my armor. My hands were drenched with another man's blood blood. The Stormcloak let out one final jagged breath and his body went limp..

He was dead. I screamed in horror, knowing he died at my hand.

Hadvar rushed over and pulled my off of the dead man. I was sobbing unconsolably. Hadvar crouched down and came face-to-face with me and placed his hands on either side of my face and begged me to look at him, as opposed to the lifeless man splattered in blood.

I turned to face him. He brought his forehead to mine. "Calm down. You did the right thing. You saved my life."

"B-b-but he died. I k-k-killed him, Hadvar." I gave way to a river of sobs and wails as I pointed to the limp form in the creek.

"If you hadn't killed him, he would have killed me and then come for you. And gods only know, what they would've done to someone like you." I knew what he meant. Hadvar pulled me into a hug and held me until my sobs subsided. I let go of him to dry my tears.

He looked at me with concern heavy in his eyes. "It will get easier, I promise."

"Are you sure?"

"You're a strong woman, I know you will find a way." I stood up and dusted off my armor, making my hands slick with the blood of a soldier. I felt nauseous. I washed my hands in the creek and looted the bodies. Some had gold and lockpicks, others had swords and shields, a few even had healing potions.

Hadvar led me through the tunnels of the Imperial fort that led into cave tunnels. In the cave we were met with Frostbite Spiders.

A little further in the cavern was a bear. Hadvar squated down and pulled me down with him, when I attempted to question him, he put a finger to mouth to quiet me.

"Shh! You see that bear over there. We can try to sneak past it or I can teach you how to use a bow and arrow and you can kill it." I supposed now that I was back in Skyrim with not a thing to my name, I would have to learn how to hunt and sneak. So I let Hadvar teach me how to use the bow.

Finally I knocked an arrow, took a deep breath and loosed an arrow. It landed right in the bear's belly. The bear awoke angrily. So I shot another arrow, this one landed right in between his eyes.

"Great shot!" Hadvar rejoiced. He gathered me into his arms and spun me around. When he sat me down he's cheeks flushed. "Sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

I was blushing a little. "It's-It's fine."

"Well let us get on, shall we?"

"Onward we shall go."

The exit of the cave wasn't far from where the bear was. We made our way down the pass to Riverwood and on our way we passed the mage stone, warrior stone, and the thief stone (or the Guide Stones).

Hadvar urged me to choose one, but I was torn. I had trained to be a mage in the Imperial City, but I needed to learn to better wield my sword. Afterall, Hadvar could only help me with so much. I chose the warrior stone. Hadvar muttered something of knowing I was soldier-material. Conversation subsided quite a bit for a while.

Then, "So, Sartyl, why did you come back to Skyrim? You appeared to have had a pampered life back in Cyrodiil."

I pondered on this for a moment... I never really thought about it. It was just something I felt I had to do. I spent years and years sleeping on the finest linens and wearing the most expensive fabrics, not the life for me.

"You know, Hadvar, I'm not quite sure. Life in Cyrodiil, especially the Imperial City, was boring. I lived in a huge manor. I slept upon the finest blankets, wore the finest clothes, ate the most decadant foods, rode the most expensive horses, and attended the best schools while getting anything I wanted. Don't tell me that doesn't sound boring."

Hadvar looked like he tried to understand. But shrugged instead. "Yes it must have been a _true_ inconvenience to have to deal with that every day for... what? Ten? Twelve years?"

I rolled my eyes. "I know you can't fathom any of that being boring, and for the first five years, it wasn't. I loved it. But Skyrim is my home. She birthed me and my parents lay rest in her soil. It's almost like if you had a horse, and it may not have been the prettiest, most expensive, or fastest but it was **your** horse. You and this horse had been on many adventures, conquered many mountains, and narrowly escaped death several times. But one day you were forced to go and ride on this magnificent, expensive, fast horse and you enjoy this horse, but it doesn't climb mountains or fight enemies. Do you stay with the magnificent horse or the loyal and fearless horse?"

Hadvar was in deep thought. I noticed the large, muscular build of Hadvar. And how his brown hair flowed to just above his shoulders like a mane that framed his tanned face and calm, blue eyes. Hadvar was so obviously a Nord, despite the deception of the Sun, he was still pale.

"I get what you're trying to say now. Well welcome back, kinsman."

We closed in on some town borders and Hadvar rushed me into his uncle Alvor's house. Alvor gave me whatever I could take, as well as a lesson in smithing armor. I stuffed my pack full. Then Alvor sent me to tell the Jarl of Whiterun about the dragon at Helgen.


	4. Riften

When I arrived at the Whiterun gates, I had to tell the guards why I there and what I intended to do. I wasn't fond of everyone's sudden change of attitude towards me. I was used to every treating me with the utmost respect, but that just wasn't possible anymore. I was nothing more than a prisoner lucky enough to have escaped Helgen. I was no longer Sartyl Lovidicus the adopted daughter of Cortumelorius and Faustina Lovidicus, esteemed apprentice mage, and Emporer Titus Mede's favorite goddaughter. I wasn't worth much more to this land than another mouth to feed.

I met with Jarl Balgruuf, who sent me to his court wizard, Farengar. Farengar wanted me to head to Bleak Falls Barrow and grab a tablet that might help him in his research.

I sent a Courier to my parents back in Cyrodiil asking them if they knew of anyone here I could hire to accompany me. I knew I was not strong enough to face the ancestors on my own, so I waited for their response.

A few weeks later, their reply came.

 _"Sartyl,_

 _We've asked around and the best we could find was an adept mage from Cyrodiil. From what we've gathered, he should be in Riften. You may know him from the college, he studied there. It will cost you 500 septims however. We trust you have managed your money well, since you've arrived. Nevertheless, safe travels, little dartwing. May Talos guide you always."_

I appreciated the way they supported my views, though it was unlike their own. I was excited to finally have some company again, after Hadvar left me to report back to General Tullius.

I went through my coin pouch and cpunted up coins. I only had 200 septims. Damn.

I head to the Bannered Mare for some mead and work. I would leave town for several days, kill various animal nuisances and return for a hundred or so septims. I then sent off on my trek to Riften.

I met a hunter along the way, he showed me how to set a campfire and pitch a tent.

I had never spent a night alone in the wild, and now I would be forced to.

As the Sun began to leave the sky, I decided to stop off the side of the road and start my campfire.

Then, as though the sky could sense my fear of being left in the darkness, it began to ran, so I hurried and desperately attempted to pitch my tent.

When I failed at that too, I packed up my things once more and continued to walk to Riften.

Skyrim wasn't so beautiful in the dark. The majestic mountains turned into horrifically jagged boundaries. The beautifully colorful trees turned to the hiding places of horrors unknown. Everything seemed like it was dead set on my restlessness. The night seemed to drag on for days. And daylight seemed unfathomable now.

Every bump, thump, scratch, and breaking branch sent me into hysterics. It's a wonder no actual predators heard me.

Then little by little the Sun awoke. And the guard towers of Riften became visible upon the horizon.

Then as I approached the gates I counted my septims once more.

I had enough and a small bit left over for a couple of rooms in the inn. I approached the gate. And then a guard stopped me.

"Halt. You will have to pay the visitor's tax before entering."

I watched him closely and realized he must be bluffing. So I called him on it and he let me in.

I tried to desperately keep my mind on the mercenary mage, but after three days without sleep it truly was a challenge. I stumbled into the Bee and Barb. I hoped this was the right decision, this mage could be _anywhere_. I asked the Argonian at the bar if she had heard of a mage for hire.

She pointed towards the bench by the door..

An Imperial man with black hair and robes that screamed nobility of some sort sat on the bench nursing a tankard of ale. He was slender but well-built. His nose hooked at the end and his skin was a nice golden tan, which led me to believe he must have been from somewhere around the Nibensian Bay. He had amber eyes that burned with the fire of more than a few mistakes. He wore adept mage's robes. They complimented him well. His face had stubble and his cheekbones were high.

I turned back to the Argonian named Keerava and thanked her. Then turned and headed toward the mage.

He turned his ever-judgemental gaze upon me and waited for me to speak.

"You're a mercenary, correct?"

"For a modest fee of 500 septims, I'll bring my formidable arcane powers to bear against your foes. What do you say?"

I handed him a sack of coins and he weighed them and counted in his hands.

"Very well. I am Marcurio. If you wouldn't mind, try not to walk into any spike-filled traps or filthy skeever-dens?"

I scoffed at him. "First order of business will be to get a good night's rest."

He saluted me and said, "Aye, aye, captain."

Walked over to Keerava and asked her for two rooms. She checked her log and looked back at me wearing a worried expression.

"Is there a problem, Keerava?" I raised in eyebrow in question.

"Uh, yes... I have only one room. And it only has one bed." Keerava loked like she expected me to hit her or yell at her... I was a bit off-kilter upon hearing this news.

"It's fine Keerava, I'm sure we'll figure something out."

"Thank you for your kindness, that will be five septims."

"But aren't they usually te-"

"Five septims. My Inn. My rules." I handed her five septims and Marcurio and I headed to our room.

When we reached our room, Marcurio and I just both kinda stared at the bed. Both of us obviously wanted it, but we weren't going to say it.

"I can sleep on the floor if you want the bed. It's no big deal," I said.

Marcurio studied me for a while. Then he crossed his arms.

"Nope, I'll sleep in the floor. You look like you haven't slept in at least a week. I think it's high time you got some."

"Okay, firstly you're not my mom. Second, _I_ offered _you_ the bed."

"I do not care, _you_ paid _me_ to accompany you. You get the bed." It was at this point that I realized there was no point in arguing with him, if he was anything like most Imperials he wasn't going to give up once a decision had been made. I learned that during the fifteen years I lived with Faustina and Cortumelorius.

"Fine," I sighed. Marcurio looked pleased with himself.

I grabbed my pack and began taking off my sword and shield. "I'm headed to the bath house, Marcurio. I'll be back shortly."

"Don't make me wait too long... I get bored _veeerrry_ easily." I rolled my eyes.

The bath house was located around the corner from the cemetery. So it was a bit of a walk. As soon as my skin touched the cool water of the bath house my anxieties and worries melted away. I became completely... relaxed. I washed off and then just relaxed in the bath. It felt so nice not to be running all over the place. I'd been travelling for over two months now. My bathing schedule wasn't all that great.

Cortumelorius and Faustina had been quite disheartened that I wished to come back to my homeland, but after months of begging and promising to keep in touch as best I could they both gave in. Imperials may be hard-headed, but they aren't impossible to break. Cortumelorius got together all my documents and hired me a carriage driver to take me to the Cyrodiil/Skyrim border. The carriage driver made sure I got rest and remained well-fed and hydrated, but regardless we couldn't always have time to stop at a bath house. Then Helgen, Riverwood, and Whiterun... Now I'm here in Riften once more.

Something nudged my shoulder and I realized I had fallen asleep in the bath house. I looked up and the handsome stood over me with his hand over his eyes.

I jumped trying to cover myself "Marcurio!"

"You took too long. I got suspicious. I promise I didn't see anything. I kept my eyes closed." The mage turned his back to me and continued to talk. "You could've drowned, had I not come. You should be grateful."

I began to get out of the bath and cover myself.

"Oh my bad. Thank you, oh great and powerful skeever-brain."

"Fine. I'm heading back to the Bee And Barb. If you fall asleep again down here, I'm not coming back."

I scoffed at him and he left. The wood door of the bath house slammed shut behind him. I slipped back into my armor and made my way across the city. The sun was setting. I walked out into the marketplace and decided I should sell off some of the useles weapons I picked up.

I noticed a familiar-looking dunmer at one of the stands. It was Brand-Shei! By the gods, was I glad to see him. I started towards him, but was stopped by a tall, good-looking, well-clothed, auburn-haired Nord.

"Never made an honest day's worth of gold in your life, have ya lass?" I was taken aback by his heavy Breton accent.

"My wealth is none of your business." The audacity of this man!

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong lass. Wealth is my business."

"Well you know nothing of mine! So back off!"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. I'm afraid I can read you like a card, lass." The Nord smiled. "I can tell that you belonged to a wealthy family and then you came decided to go your own way and you lost everything. So, lass, tell me, am I correct in assuming this?"

My face gave me away. "How, in the name of Shor, did you figure all of this out?"

The Nord smiled. "It's quite simple actually. It's all in the way people walk, what they're wearing. It's a dead giveaway. Now, I have an offer to make you lass. A way to make a bit of coin, if you will."

"Very well, what is it?"

He told me I needed to steal a ring from the Argonian named Madesi and plant it on Brand-Shei while he caused a distraction. I agreed. I told him I wasn't ready.

He began the distraction. People herded towards him. I made sure to catch the gaze of a guard and then made a poor attempt at lockpicking... it felt very awkward and wrong.

The guard approached me and asked me for the money to pay the fine and any stolen goods I had. I went willingly. I would never do anything to hurt Brand-Shei.

I reported back to the Nord who seemed slightly disappointed, but told me to go to through the ratways to find the Thieves Guild and that his name was Brynjolf.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to join the Thieves Guild.. I've never stolen a thing in my life and I wasn't sure I wanted to make it my hobby now. The extra coin was tempting, however.

The Nord left and I hurried over to Brand-Shei.

"Brand-Shei! It's me, Sartyl!" The dunmer looked at me with confusion at first but then it melted into recognition. His arms opened wide as he approached me.

"Dartwing!" Brand-Shei embraced me in the way old friends do. I had missed Brand-Shei. "Well, tell me, Dartwing, how was Cyrodiil? Is it as wonderful as rumors tell it?" The dunmer's eyes were wide with curiosity.

"It was wonderful. My mother and father were happy to show me all over Cyrodiil, but we stayed mostly within the Imperial City."

"The Imperial City, eh? Did you meet Emporer Titus Mede II? Did you live in a mansion?"

"Erhm, actually, yes. Cortumelorius is like his right-hand man, much like my birth father was, except to a friendlier extent. They're cousins, in fact. The Emporer is my godfather."

"Well, silly Dartwing, what, in the name of Sheogorath, are you doing here then?" Brand-Shei looked at me like I'd gone mad.

"Brand-Shei, this is my homeland. Even as I was bathed in the finest things, Skyrim beckoned me to come home."

"I understand, but you couldn't have possibly chosen a worse time. Skyrim is in the midst of a bloody civil war and the dragons are awakening."

"Oh, trust me I know. I was at Helgen."

"How on Nirn did you survive?"

"I had help on both sides. The Stormcloaks led me to the Imperials and the Imperials led me to Riverwood."

"You are a true wonder, Dartwing! Now I don't suppose you came all this way to catch up on the past fifteen winters, what is it that you needed?"

"Well I came to catch up with you and sell my wares."

"Well, since I last saw you I've been coming out to this stand every day and trading with travelers making enough extra septims to live on. Now what have you got for me."

I sold all of the excess stuff I had to Brand-Shei and said my goodbyes. I pushed open the doors of the Bee and Barb and marched upstairs. I reached my room where Marcurio lay on his back in the floor with his arms behind his head. His eyes were closed, so I attempted to sneak in as to not wake him.

His eyes shot open and he rose off the bedroll he had in the floor. "Fall asleep in the bath again, did we?" He had a smirk on his face that would only be complete with a slap to the face.

"No, actually I got stopped by Brynjolf in the marketplace and then I caught up with Brand-Shei."

"You left out a poor attempt at petty thievery and a refusal to frame an innocent party."

"How did- What?"

"You've got to work on your observation skills."

I sat my stuff down on the table behind the door, ignoring Marcurio. I opened the door and used it as a way of blocking Marcurio's line of vision as I stripped out of my a

armor and pulled on a set of bed clothes Alvor's wife Sigrid had made me.

I closed the door and blew out the candles that lit the room.

"Til tomorrow, Marcurio."

"You never told me your name."

I thought back and realized I hadn't. "I'm Sartyl Shrouded-Hearth Lovidicus."

The mage gasped and snapped his fingers which sparked a small flame in his palm. "You don't mean Lovidicus as in like -"

"What? Cortumelorius and Faustina Lovidicus? Lovidicus as in the daughter of the cousin of the Emporer? Yes, that's exactly what I mean."

"You? Imperial royalty? You're a Nord, though."

"Actually I'm the goddaughter of the Emporer. I was adopted by Cortumelorius Faustina."

"You're joking. There's no way. Prove it!"

"Light one of those candles and I'll see if I can't find it."

With a wave of his hand, a candle lit near my knapsack.

I began digging through it, remembering Hadvar giving them back to me once we were in Alvor's house.

Then beneath potions and septims and lockpicks I found a few crinkled documents.

I carefully pulled them out and smoothed them. I brought them to the curious mage, who gradually looked more and more defeated. I smiled with pride as he read the documents with disbelief.

"Alright. I believe you. You can lose that mocking smirk now."

I blew out the candle and got back in bed. "Good night, Marcurio."

"Night, Sartyl."


	5. Warm Night's Embrace

_The large dragon and several words in a language I did not know played like a whirlwind in my mind. "Dovahkiin," the voices cried._ _Then I saw the soldier. A creek running red with blood. I saw myself bent over the body slicing it's throat open. Over and over. Each time a bit faster than the last._ _"Dovahkiin"_

I bolted upright in the bed with sweat pouring from my face. I was shivering. My breathing was heavy and quick. My heart was beating very quickly and urgently.

"Is everything alright?" A flame flickered in the darkness of the room. The mage sat up and rubbed his eye with his open hand and yawned.

I just stared at him in horror. I felt the ache of tears gather in my throat and consume my vocal chords that if I may choose to speak I would be thrown into a fit of sobs. Tears stung my eyes as I fought for control over my own body. I had started shaking.

"Sartyl? Are. You. Alright?"

I opened my mouth to say "yes" but instead was overpowered by sobs and hysterics.

"Sartyl, what's wrong?" The mage lifted himself onto the edge of the bed.

I choked on words. I managed to choke out, "I killed him."

"Who? Who did you kill?"

"The Stormcloak." Talking was getting easier.

"Did you have a reason?"

"Marcurio, what if I go mad and just start killing for no reason? What if I become a murderous lunatic?"

"Look, I doubt you will become a murderous lunatic after one kill. You obviously feel bad about it. You're fine." Marcurio moved closer to me and wrapped me in his embrace.

SIowly, I began to calm down and my breathing began to return to normal once again.

"Will you hold me until I fall asleep?" I felt pitiful asking someone who is little more than a stranger to me to do this.

"Sure." I fell easily back to sleep.


	6. Certainly M'Lady

_Marcurio's POV_

I sat on the same bench day by day and made conversation with the same people day by day. My life had become sad and lonely since I left Cyrodiil. I simply could not live under those circumstances any longer. I tried everything to appease my parents and nothing worked. I tried becoming a scholar, but they said I was too good for that. So I studied magick, as I've always been magickally-gifted. They were displeased even further. So I did what I thought was fool-proof and went into the Legion. I entered as a battlemage of officer rank. My parents still disapproved. So when I came back home from the Legion, I gathered what was truly mine and left Cyrodiil. I'd never be good enough for them.

I shook my head to release the thought from my mind when something caught my eye. There was a woman with straight, black hair, rosy cheeks and blue eyes staring daggers through me. Her skin was fair and her cheekbones were high enough to cut down any man that cross her. The fur armor she wore accentuated her ... _finer_ features. I could tell she was pampered. Or had been at least. Her hair was very shiny, not dull and greasy like most women in Skyrim. Her skin looked dirty, but also it was obvious she was not always like this. She looked like she was used to having everything handed to her on a golden platter. She was beautiful, astonishing really. There was something in her eyes that likened to dismay and sadness. There was darkness in her beauty unlike anything I'd seen before. It was mysterious and wonderous... but moreover, it was dangerous.

Then she turned back. I looked back down at my tankard and sighed. Of course, such a beauty would never talk to a lowly mercenary as me. Maybe had I been bathed in jewels and oiled with gold, would she dare approach me.

To my surprise, she was now standing in front of me. I looked up to her and she asked if I was a mercenary. _No just some madman sitting on a bench._ I tried to impress her with my choice of words, and she was slightly appalled. She seemed hesitant to hand over the 500 septims, but she handed over the gold nonetheless.

I introduced myself, prompting her to do the same. She simply suggested we get rooms instead. There was but one room left in the Bee and Barb... Oh my... I was not prepared for this.

We went up to the room Keerava had rented her. I walked in first... and saw there was only one bed. Oh how I wished to sleep in a normal bed for the first time in years.

"I'll sleep in the floor, if you want the bed. It's no big deal," said the pampered lady. I could tell she actually wanted the bed.

I studied her and underneath the harsh candlelight I could see bags under her eyes. She looked like she was close to passing out just standing before me. I crossed my arms. There was no way she was sleeping on the floor in her current condition.

"Nope, I'll sleep in the floor. You look like you haven't slept in at least a week. I think it's high time you got some."

She attempted a weak argument. No matter how hard she would argue, I was not going to allow her to sleep in the floor. As I stood my ground, she thought of adding to her argument but thought better of it. She gave up and headed for the bath house.

I sat alone for a while reading spell tomes and playing with flames. The pampered lady was taking an awfully long time with her bath. After a while I began to worry, she could not be bathing for this long.

I walked out through the marketplace and across the sanctuary and opened the door to the bath house and the pampered lady lay asleep.

The way her hair clung to her face and fell down her shoulders was breathtaking. She looked so peaceful, so relaxed. The darkness I saw upon first meeting her was not present now. She was the image of pure bliss. Then her head began to slide down the bath wall.

I covered my eyes and felt my way around the bath house like a blind man until I reached her. I may be enraptured by her beauty but I was no pervert. I felt her shoulder and nudged her slightly. She did not wake. I nudged her once more but with a tad bit more urgency. Then she yawned and screamed my name. I, of course, defended myself and then turned around, so she could get out of the bath and I could remove my hand from my eyes.

I heard water moving and the wooden floor of the bath house shift under the slight weight of the pampered lady. I told her I wouldn't come back to wake her if she fell asleep again and left.

I walked through the marketplace whose regular crowd of traders and adventurers had begun to slow and disperse. I found a bench to on and through an invisibility spell, so I could ensure the pampered lady's safe return.

She sauntered into the marketplace and was stopped by Brynjolf, one of the head guys at the Thieves Guild.

I had dealt with the Thieves Guild before. I used to gamble quite a bit during my early days in Riften. I learned my lesson after I had to pay off my debt.

The lady obviously wasn't about to do whatever Brynjolf wanted but she made it look like she would.

She made sure to catch the attention of the nearby guard and picked the lock. How clever. The guard caught her and she paid her fine and reported to Brynjolf.

Then, curiously enough, she yelled to the dark elf merchant, Brand-Shei, who seemed to recognize her. Then he yelled something about a Dartwing to her. I pressumed from their greetings, that they were old friends reunited once more.

I had never actually talked to Brand-Shei for anything more than to sell a few trinkets I'd gathered. They talked fondly for a while and I figured since the pampered lady was so close to the Bee and Barb, that I could rest assured that she'd return to the room in one piece. So I went to the room.

It wasn't long after I had gotten settled in and comfortable in the floor that she returned.

She must've seen that my eyes were closed because she tried to sneak about the room as not to wake me. I sat up and accused her of falling asleep in the bath again.

She corrected me, admitting only to being held up by Brynjolf and talking to Brand-Shei. So I let her know that I knew more about her endeavors than she thought and then told her she had some work to do on her observation skills. She ignored me. She went behind the door and I heard the shifting of cloth and the clang of buckles. She came out moments later in bed clothes and blew out the candles.

I still didn't know her name.

"I'm Sartyl Shrouded-Hearth Lovidicus." That name... I'd heard it in Cyrodiil.

I was in disbelief. I needed proof. There was no possible way that this pampered Nord was Imperial royalty. Perhaps a distant cousin but certainly not _the_ daughter of Cortumelorius Lovidicus.

Then she even claimed to be the goddaughter of Emporer Titus Mede II himself!!

She didn't sound like she was lying, but you never truly can tell whose telling the truth these days.

She told me to light a candle then she went to her knapsack and I heard the clank of potion bottles and the ting of lockpicks... then I heard the soft crinkle of parchment.

She let out a sigh of relief almost. She wore a mocking smirk as she handed me the documents with pride.

There was an adoption document signed by Cortumelorius and Faustina Lovidicus. Her name was Sartyl Shrouded-Hearth, then. There was a document that proved she had changed her name, signed by the Emporer. And there was a letter from Cortumelorius and Faustina advising her to find me in Riften. There was a smaller letter from a man named Hadvar, wishing her safe travels.

I ran across an old document that I'm sure she didn't mean to put in there. It read:

" _Madame Luella Shrouded-Hearth,_

 _Oeluveer is with us. We are coming. You and your daughter will watch as we rip the flesh from his bones and burn him alive as a sacrifice to Lord Molag Bal. Prepare yourself, but know that if you attempt to evade us this time your daughter is next._

 _-Volkihar."_

I quickly shifted past that letter. The horror that must've been. Another letter read:

" _Sartyl Shrouded-Hearth,_

 _I regret to inform you that Bolliviir has passed. Our condolences. He left you a few septims as an inheritance. We have taken out the necessary taxes._ _\- The Steward of Morthal"_ The losses seemed to get worse. Then I read one letter that changed everything for me.

" _Sartyl Lovidicus,_

 _I am saddened to here you are returning to Skyrim. I wish you would stay and fill my throne room with laughter as you always have. You truly are the best goddaughter I could have. You have proven through adversity and loss that a woman can always bring a smile to anyone's face. After getting the full backstory on you, I believe both Cortumelorius and Faustina realize why you were so guarded for so long. They have tried to do their best by you. Both of them would come to me sometimes in tears telling of how they were uncertain you would ever love them. As time went on they became happier. Faustina was cursed to never have children so she was delighted when Bolliviir sent her a letter of a child in need of adoption. May the ground quake as you walk._

 _\- Papa Titus"_

These letters, though they were probably not meant for my eyes provided me with useful information. I admitted defeated and we both went to sleep.

"No! What have I done!!"

The scream caused me to bolt upright on my bedroll I snapped my fingers and lit the room slightly.

"Is everything alright?"

Sartyl sat with her knees to her chest, shaking and covered in sweat. She stared at me in horror. She obviously was not okay.

She was searching for her voice when she collapsed into sobs. I hated the sight of seeing her like this.

I asked her again what was bothering her. She mouthed "yes" and succumbed to hysterics once more. Once the river of tears subsided, I carefully lifted myself onto the very far end of her bed and asked her, a bit softer than last time, "Sartyl, what's wrong?"

She made a failed attempte at calming her spasmodic breathing. before she spoke. "I killed him." Her words were chopped and short. I could tell tears that stung to be free lay near the top of her throat.

"Who? Who did you kill?"

"A Stormcloak." Her words were become slightly more fluent and smooth.

"Did you have a reason?"

She dodged my question. "Marcurio, what if I go mad and start killing for no reason? What if I become a murderous lunatic?"

I assured her that would not be the case. Then she looked at me with self-pity weighing down the edges of her mouth. Her bottom lip gave a quiver as gears turned over and over ide her mind. By the Nine, was she beautiful. Even covered in sweat and smothered by tears and horror, her beauty rang true.

She asked me to hold her til she fell asleep, but she sounded as though she regretted it. I moved closer to her as she laid down and enclosed her in my arms.

Her breathing smoothed out and her heartbeat began to slow. Her body, once tense and rigid began to go limp and relaxed.

Poor, tortured noble.


	7. Bleakfalls Barrow

_Sartyl's POV_

The next morning I woke up in the arms of someone I had just met, but in all honesty it felt like we'd known each other our entire lives. Nothing felt more right than laying here, wrapped in the arms of Marcurio. Light was pouring in from the small window far above our heads. I dare not move in fear of waking the peaceful mage.

 _Marcurio's POV_

I felt her jolt awake and then relax once more. Her back was pressed gently against my chest and her arms had grabbed mine. Something about this moment just felt ... right. Soon she would "wake" me and we'd head off to wherever she wanted to go. By the Divines I never wanted to let her go. We'd only just met and soon this embrace would end and we'd both become simply a noble and her mercenary. But I would follow her into Oblivion.

 _Sartyl's POV_

It was beyond time to get up. I carefully slipped out of Marcurio's arms and into my armor. I fastened my sword and sheath to my hip and tightened my cuirass. Threw my pack over my shoulder and nudged Marcurio awake. He moaned a little bit, but agreed to get up.

Finally, we were headed to Bleakfalls Barrow. Marcurio and I caught a carriage to Whiterun and walked from there. Bandits had made their way inside. I let Marcurio handle them. The may be Bandits, and have nothing to lose, butthey were still humans. Marcurio and I fell victim to traps, pressure plates and the mystery of the ancient crypt.

As we crept farther into the crumbling tomb, we were faced with the ancestors of my people. Draugr. I'd heard of them. Stories. Legends. Books. I never believed any of it to be true. Not before now, anyway. Marcurio made several comments toward being well versed in ancient Nord history.

I did not speak out of fear of a cave in our waking draugr, Marcurio minded not however.

Killing the draugr was hard at first. I couldn't separate them from human. It wasn't until I convinced myself I was doing good by killing them, that it became easier.

Finally Marcurio and I made it through the spikes, poison darts, pressure-plate-activated-spiked-doors, and dragon claw doors and walked into a large cistern.

I stood in the doorway for a moment and scoped out the room from the doorway.

A soft chant came from a curved wall-like structure in the center of the room. It was covered in strange markings unlike any I'd seen before.

An ancient coffin lay in front of the wall. An old Nord chest lay at the end of the coffin. I walked closer to the chest, but a strange, blue light came from the chanting wall inviting me closer. I walked toward the wall and the chants got louder. There was a word burning bright blue; I could see it even when I closed my eyes. The sound "Fus" echoed through my mind until it changed to "push."

Scared of this I jumped back from the wall. I stumble backwards over the stairs to the chest and coffin , bumping into the corner of the coffin.

The impact knocked the breath out of me. The coffin began to quiver. I, instinctively, drew my sword. The lid flew off and a draugr with two black horns on his helmet emerged.

The draugr swung his blade with might unmatched by the other draugr I'd faced. I dodged his first blow and Marcurio through Chain Lightning spells that affected me as well.

I swung my blade and the undead ancestor dodged it. He swung and swung. I tried to hit the draugr and succeeded less than I failed. Marcurio had switched to a fireball spell that appeared to be effecting the draugr greatly.

I was going in for one final, killing blow, when the draugr interrupted it with a power blow with the flat portion of his blade. I felt my ribs crack and my breath leave me. I staggered immensely. Marcurio yelled something I didn't understand. I regained balance and, with aching ribs, swung hopelessly. I missed. The draugr cut my upper thigh. I swung and missed. The tip of the ancient blade of the draugr nipped my cheek. _Had Marcurio run out of magicka?_ I swung and hit, but it was a fleshwound. I swung again and the draugr dodged and slammed my head into the coffin. I turned myself over. The draugr was standing over me and gave a maniacal, rasping laugh that was barely audible over the ringing in my ears. He drew his blade over his head. I closed my eyes and pleaded to the Divines, to Talos, and to Shor. I braced myself for the blow that never came. After a while, I opened my eyes to find the ancestor dead once more. Marcurio was on his knees beside me saying something, but all I heard was a sharp ringing.

 _Marcurio's POV_

I delivered one last fireball to the draugr. He fell over and his blade clanged against the stone floor of the cistern. Sartyl had her eyes closed tight. I rushed over to her.

"Sartyl!" She finally opened her eyes. Blood had coated her face and neck, soaking into the neck of her cuirass. Blood began to pool around her left thigh. The Imperial soldier cuirass she wore was easy enough toraise in order to inspect the damage.

The cut was deep. I noticed the blood that had splattered across the stone floor and the blood that covered her leg now.

"Sartyl, listen! Can you hear me?!" Panic rose quickly in my voice. Her eyes were a mix of confusion and exhaustion.

I repeatedly asked if she could her me and then, finally, "Yes, I can, now." Her voice was weak.

"Will you let me heal you? Please?"

I pleaded with her.

"No, no. I'm fine, Marcurio. Honestly. See, watch." Sartyl drew her legs slowly up against her body and gingerly placed her hands on the coffin. She winced and began to get up. She stifled a whimper as she rose to her feet.

"See, I'm fine." Her voice was a bit stronger. Then she looted the draugr and grabbed some large stone from it's pack and looted the chest.

Inside was a Plentiful Healing Potion. She yanked the cork out and chugged it like it was air and she was suffocating.

I have to say, as foolish as her stubbornness at this moment was, I admired her for her independence and valor. She stuffed the rest of the things into her pack.

 _Sartyl's POV_

The potion healed my cheek and had begun numbing my ribs and thigh. My neck and leg were hot and sticky with blood, I needed to wash it off.

Marcurio was watching me very closely as we climbed the stairs to the exit of Bleakfalls Barrow. My leg still ached slightly. But soon enough we would find a pond or creek.

As I emerged out of the exit, I took a handful of snow and rubbed it to my thigh, hoping to numb it further.

Marcurio and I headed down the mountain to Whiterun once more.

We were almost to the gates. Then I remembered there was a creek that ran just outside of the gates of Whiterun proper. I turned around, headed towards the creek.

I washed off my leg first, out of mere convenience. Then I washed my face and neck and left for Dragonsreach. I entered the gates of Whiterun. Chugged one more potion and bolted throught the city up the stairs of the castle and into the doors of Dragonsreach.

Farengar was discussing something with a woman in leather armor when I walked in and slammed the Dragonstone tablet onto his desk. He seemed surprised that I had returned.

Farengar also commented on how I walked with a limp and winced when I moved my right arm. He offered healing, but I told him I could handle myself. Irileth the Jarl's dunmer housecarl came running into the wizard's study and demanded to see both him and I at once. I lagged behind a bit and finally took the time to concentrate on a healing spell and healed myself.

Then without second thought I bolted up the stairs to where Farengar and Irileth ran. Jarl Balgruuf said there was a dragon attacking the Northern Watchtower and that since I was at Helgen I should go as well.

By the time Marcurio and I got there the dragon could no longer fly. The Whiterun guard meant business.

This dragon had bronze scales. His head was decorated with wicked horns and gruelling spikes. Larger spikes trailed down his back and ended in a spade-like tail.

I put in a few arrows and sword slashes. Then the dragon collapsed with a defeated roar. His once proud bronze scales were littered with thick blood and broken arrows.

The dragon looked me in the eye. I heard an ancient voice say "Dovahkiin" in my mindspace just like in my nightmare.

I froze. Marcurio yanked me back and saved me from the dragon's scorching flame breath.

The dragon died. The guards began to rejoice.

The skin of the dragon began to bake and crackle and seemingly lift off it's body. Then white-gold light encircled me. The sound of wind filled my ears, even as the air was dead. The light that circled me drew into my being and filled me with a fire-like sensation. My bones felt stronger and my blood warmer. I could her the song of the ancient warriors in my head, but it felt real. My vision blurred momentarily and then came back stronger than ever.

"I don't believe it! You're... Dragonborn," wondered a thick Nord accent from behind me.

"I'm... what?"

"Dragonborn. You know the only human alive that can devour-"

"A dragon's soul. Yeah I know," I finished. "I suppose that IS what I did... But why?"

"It's said that the Dragonborn is a master in the way of the Voice. Is it true? Can you Shout for us, Dragonborn?" The Nord's persistence was admirable. But how did I Shout?

I took a deep breath and out came "Fus" and the guards (and Marcurio) fell back.

"Then it's true. You ARE Dragonborn."

Without another word, I spun on my heel and began walking to Whiterun. Balgruuf needed to know the dragon was dead. As Marcurio and I approached the stables a thunderous sound came from High Hrothgar. Then an omnious "Dov-ah-kiin" rang through the cloud and shook the ground beneath me causing me to lose my foothold and stagger. My leg gave out and I began to fall but Marcurio caught me.

"Thanks," I said as I brushed off bloody, tattered cuirass.

"It's not a problem." He stared at me intently. His eyes in torchlight were magnificent. The flickering light highlighted his cheekbones perfectly.

We needed to get to the Jarl. I bought two rooms in the Bannered Mare and offered Marcurio the choice to head on to bed. He refused. So we both ran up to Dragonsreach. Jarl Balgruuf granted me the title of Thane and told me I best head to High Hrothgar.


	8. High Hrothgar

Marcurio and I exited Dragonsreach with a few extra septims. I split it evenly between us. Marcurio had been quite since we left Bleakfalls Barrow. I was beginning to worry about him. As though he read my mind, he spoke.

"So much has happened today, I'm still trying to process it. I saw a dragon and you devoured its soul."

"Yeah. I agree. I'm not sure I even believe it yet."

"Sartyl..."

"Marcurio?"

"Why wouldn't you allow me to heal you? You know back a few days ago in the Barrow?"

"I was capable of healing myself."

"But you had rather endured days of physical pain than simply allow me to heal you."

"Look, I don't wanna talk about it. I healed myself. It's over with."

We walked through the door of The Bannered Mare and headed to our rooms. I slept through the night. Thankfully.

Marcurio woke me up the next morning. I got dressed and met him doen stairs and we set out for the 7000 steps of High Hrothgar.

There were no towns, inns, or Courier posts between Whiterun and High Hrothgar. Marcurio and I had no reason but to camp.

Marcurio lit the fire and showed me how to set up tents. We sat in silence for a while around the campfire. It was a comfortable silence.

"Marcurio?" The mage looked towards me. "We've been travelling together for about a month now and you have yet to tell me anything about your life. Other than your fascination with caves and vast knowledge of Nordic history."

"I suppose I haven't. Very well. What would you like to know?"

"Anything really. Did you live in Cyrodiil?"

"Yes, I did. I was born in Anvil. When I was young, however, my father saw it best fit to move us to the Imperial City, in vain hopes of gaining wealth beyond measure." Bitterness nipped at his words. "My father then got to where he was never home. He had always been a man of business, never showing any true emotion to even his family. His focus was never on my mother and I, but instead on his money, his "empire", and his legacy."

"That must've been hard." I tried to sympathize. I remembered Cortumelorius felt the same way at first... but eventually he began spending time with me and showinv that he did care.

"You don't even know the worst of it." Marcurio's eyes burned darkly with hatred, but his tone was level and untouched by emotion. "The worst was whenever it drew close to the time when I should choose my own life. Never before had my father expressed opinion on my personal affairs. So, with the way my parents were in mind, I trained to become a scholar specializing in ancient histories of all races. Khajiit and their Elsweyr, Bosmer and Valenwood, Altmer and Summerset Isle, Dunmer and Morrowind, Redguards and Hammerfell, Argonians and Black Marsh, Imperials and Cyrodiil, and even Bretons and High Rock. But the one race that had a culture so convoluted and twisted, so mysterious and magickal, so interesting and adventurous was the the Nords and the ancestors of Skyrim. I studied it until there was nothing more the Imperial City could show me. Even after devoting myself for a few years to it, my parents did not approve. So I joined the Arcane University. I had always had an aptitude for magick and the arts thereof. My parents didn't approve even yet. As a last resort I worked with my father in his business and hated it. I worked for a couple of years and quit. My heart wasn't in it. My father disowned me after that. So I packed my things and left. My mother begged me to stay, but I couldn't. Even for her. So I joined the Legion and when I got stationed here in Skyrim, I stayed." Marcurio heaved a broken, ragged sign.

"I'm so sorry."

Silence clung to us as we sat across the campfire from each other. The night brought a chill and moisture had gathered in the grass around us.

"What rank were you?"

"Huh? Oh I was the Battlemage Legate."

"Wow."

Marcurio looked like he had something to ask but he decided against it.

"Tell me a little more about you."

Marcurio looked like already thought he knew too much.

"Err, like what?"

Marcurio thought for a moment. "Would you tell me why you were orphaned or something about your real parents?"

"Um, well... My father was Oeluveer Shrouded-Hearth and my mother was Luella Shrouded-Hearth. My father was a large Nord with a slight underbite. He had black hair like mine and eyes that were as green as the grass of the Reach. He was loyal to High King Torygg. High King Torygg and my father grew up together. They reminded best friends until the bitter end. He was a good man, who was murdered brutally." I choked a little trying to stay detached from my words. I had not talked of my father or his death since that cold day so many years ago. Tears brimmed my eyes. I blinked them back. "My mother was a beautiful woman with blonde hair and eyes as blue as sky. She was a sick, twisted woman undeserving of my father. She became involved with powerful things and people and organizations that she knew nothing of. She was executed when I was seven. Then I went to Cyrodiil." Hate drenched my voice and my throat was tight with sadness abounding. I hated her. My eyes burned as tears dared to escape my eyelids. My jaw felt sore and tired as I fought tears from barreling down my face.

"I- I'm sorry I asked. You know what, I'll take the first shift on watch. You need rest."

"No, Marcurio, I'm fine."

"You need sleep."

"So do you."

"There's only one tent." Damn. It almost worked. I just wanted to spend another night wrapped in his arms. He made me feel comfortable and safe.

"Fine. Wake me up before you fall asleep."

He didn't. Dawn broke over the snow peak of High Hrothgar and Marcurio lay asleep with his head resting on a log.

Soon we were heading up the seven thousand steps once again.

It was a little more than a two day trip.

Then I saw a large, black castle decorated with the carved stone heads of dragons. This was High Hrothgar, Home of the Greybeards.

I took a deep breath as I walked through the door. I met a man with a knotted beard. Angeir, the Voice of the Greybeards. The Greybeards were all elder men who had mastered the Voice and lived in seclusion.

The Greybeards ran me through several tests. Then they told me to head to Ustengrav to retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller.

So I was off.


End file.
